


High Time

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Honey Pots, Idea about a first, Office Kiss, Peaches - Freeform, Robin always has a Twix, Robin is a saint, Shanker and Strike in hospital, Shanker doesn't have paracetamol, Strike has had a joint, Strike wants his Robin, and Shanker knows, aubergine emojis, based on Robin having been single for about a year, both have feelings which have not been shared to each other, but Ilsa knows, but even her eyes are drawn to his naughty bits!, first time Robin sees Strike naked, his stoned out brain can't cope, how can Strike confuse Robin with Shanker?, it really isn't how he'd imagined it!, reference to being high on marijuana, she's only human!, the effects of pot can include hallucinations, very good for the munchies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23142112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: I have always loved the idea of writing a slightly drugged out Strike, which initially I imagined to be based on legal, medicinal drugs, but I've been rewatching That 70's Show on Netflix....and so I went here instead.Strike is NOT a user of recreational drugs, but I figured when his leg is aching he might....purely for the pain killing effects.As usual this blossomed into a much longer fic than planned......the first chapter is significantly longer than the rest!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 37
Kudos: 54





	1. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD…help me find my leg and get out of here!

**Author's Note:**

> Little shout out to the wonderful Fleabag in this.....but not his neck, or his arms!!!

“SHANKER?.......SHANKER!!!!!”

Robin heard the familiar, deep baritone of her business partner as she entered the hospital ward and made enquiries at the file strewn desk.

“I’m Robin Ellacott. I was contacted regarding Mr Strike….I think I can see why they asked me to hurry up!” she smiled ruefully as a further, even louder announcement came from behind one of the curtained screens.

“SHAN-KER……MATE?..... **SHAAAANKERRR**!!”

The male nurse breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ms Ellacott, thank you…can you please try to calm him down? His friend is currently having X-Rays and we’ve tried to contain Mr Strike’s behaviour as he comes down…”

At this point Robin interrupted the medical professional, “Comes down? He’s high?? How the hell?” she queried, her eyebrows arching into her hairline.

The scrubs-clad, rather buff nurse snorted a little, “Marijuana judging by the smell of their clothes, and I gather it was his…..friend’s idea…. to ease the pain on his leg.” Robin nodded as they began to walk in the direction of the curtained off cubicles.

“OK….so Shanker and Cormoran are both here…..both high, Cormoran’s hurt his leg and Shanker’s having X-Rays…..bloody hell, the pair of idiots!” she pressed her lips together but the nurse saw a flash of concern behind her forcibly calm expression.

“They’ll both be alright. The guy in X-Ray has a suspected fractured wrist, but by the looks of him it wouldn’t be the first, and Mr Strike in here, well, basically he’s got bruised knuckles and appears to have been running on his prosthesis, which although unwise and painful will settle down in a few days. He just needs to get whatever he smoked out of his system first because we daren’t have him reattach it just yet…..his balance is irregular and if he falls…”

Robin nodded, “Yeah….there’s a lot of him to fall!” and she rolled her eyes as a further thunderous proclamation rang out.

“SHAAANNNKKERRRRR? WHERE ARE YOU?..... **I NEED MY LEG AND MY TROUSERS** ….BASTARDS WON’T GIMME ‘EM!”

“What exactly do you need me to do then?” Robin asked, moving her bag from her shoulder, dragging her hair back into a loose ponytail and preparing to remove her jacket, as if getting ready to tackle an unruly toddler….or a ewe in labour!

“If you could in any way get him to lie down, maybe sleep, drink some water….basically shut the fuck up and stay in bed?!” the nurse whispered the final statement conspiratorially and nodded along with Robin’s tight lipped, wrinkle nosed expression. She could only imagine the aggravation her work colleague had been causing – he hated hospitals at the best of times, and being forcibly wrestled into a narrow, high bed minus his leg would be all manner of terrifying for him…..although judging by the rendition of Danny Boy he was currently treating the ward to at top volume perhaps it was as well he was under the influence of a joint!

“Right,” Robin murmured, considering a battle plan and wishing she had more than the single finger bar of Twix which she always carried in her small bag. The nurse almost theatrically drew back the curtain and Robin gave a small squeal of amusement at the sight before her.

Cormoran was sat with his back towards her on the edge of the hospital bed. The standard issue hospital gown was barely fastened due to the breadth of his bare shoulders and back; the sheet and blanket was rumpled enough to cover where his backside was nestled, and he appeared to be utilising the small, wired ‘call for distress’ button as a microphone for his soulful, and surprisingly rather tuneful version of the Irish ballad.

He was rounding out the second verse as she coughed and made her way around to face him; his fuzzy, unfocussed expression making his pitch perfect, and rather haunting rendition of the final lines almost poetically romantic:

_“For you will bend and tell me that you lo-ve meeee, And I shall sleep in peace until….you….coooome tooooooo meeeeeeee”_

As he was thanking his imaginary audience he spotted Robin. “Shanker! Fuckin’ hell, where’ve ya been? ….’ave you been undercover?....you look different!” he announced, swinging his full leg as it dangled and placing the remote control gadget thing reverently back down on the side cabinet.

Robin was somewhat alarmed to be confused with the short, wiry, gold-toothed criminal, but shook away her feelings as the single detail alone gave her a clearer insight into how stoned Strike must be!

“I’m back now,” she stated, deciding that forcing his brain to try to deal with a different person at this stage might be too much. “I reckon you might be hungry!” she flashed.

Strike’s face became instantly animated and he flailed out a large hand, aiming at ‘Shanker’s’ shoulder, but missing, “I FUCKING am! I’m so hungry….the bastards here are starving me…and they won’t give me more drugs….or even a whisky? I said….I said to ‘em, I said….medicinal…..known and proven! But no….no drinks or food or anythin’…..if Robin was here she’d ‘ave ev’rythin.”

He ended the rather garbled and rapidly spoken statement with a soft lipped pout and a face which reminded Robin of the Grumpy Cat pictures she followed on social media.

She pulled the Twix bar from her bag and purposefully wriggled the foil wrapper, causing Strike to sit up and twitch his neck, like a cat hearing a tin of tuna being opened. “Shanker….you fuckin’ star! Gimme…” and he reached out repeatedly for the bar which Robin held and moved in such a way as to force him to wriggle around on the bed to maintain his view of the shiny wrapper.

“OK, you can have the Twix, but….Cormoran, you need to lie down and eat it,” she whispered.

His face grinned, unfocusedly, “Ahhhh, yeah….in secret….shhhhhh, SSHHHHH!” and he obediently lay onto his side, facing her, one hand clutching out for the promised treat, the other pressing against his own lips, and then hers as she sniggered. His expression of wild eyed softness was at odds with the calm, almost unreadable expression he usually maintained and was making Robin feel rather protective of him.

She was supposed to have been meeting up with a friend called Mark, who she met at her new evening class; he’d recently been dumped and was blue…and she’d agreed to accompany him to some of the nicer gay bars to recover and rebuild his self esteem. Strike knew about Mark….but not that he was gay….it had just never come up in conversation. Anyway, at the last minute Mark’s ex had got back in touch, apologising and wanting to make up…hence when she’d received the message from the hospital she’d only needed to drag off her pj bottoms and pull on jeans and boots before making her way through the London, early hours traffic.

She giggled again as she handed him the small chocolate bar which he yanked open and devoured in 2 bites. “That was only a snack….I need more food, Shanker….I’ll waste away without food, mate!” he stated, prodding his index finger in mid air for effect.

“I think we’ve got a while before that’s an issue!” she cheekily retorted, earning a scowling gaze from her seriously stoned partner.

“Hey!” and he flopped onto his back, clapping his palm against his significantly firmed up belly (thanks to a new year swimming and weights routine which seemed to have remained as a weekly fixture) “That’s pure muscle….mainly!” he licked his lips and ran his hand across the cotton fabric of the hospital issue gown; a small grin appearing on his face as he apparently located his own belly button.

Robin was completely entranced….it was like watching a different human being to the usual gruff and carefully controlled man who she worked alongside. The fact that she’d fancied his arse off for the last ten months or so was by the by…and this little scenario was clearly one which he would have no recollection of, so she felt that she was free to stare and commit as much as possible to her memory.

“Alright,” she whispered, “You have a muscly tummy, but I can’t give you anything else to eat, ‘cos I haven’t got anything….but if you promise to lie nice and quiet like this I’ll go get you something.”

Cormoran tilted his head towards her and gave a small wrinkle to his brow, “Don’t charge me double, Shanker!” he stated, trying, she assumed to look menacing, but failing.

“OK…I won’t,” she soothed, placing one of her hands against his flushed looking cheek and allowing her thumb the indescribable delight of trailing against the soft stubble of his beard. “So….stay here….nice and quiet!” she whispered.

He grumbled a quiet “mmm hmmm” and again pressed his finger to his lips, “Ssssh….secret chocolate,” and again pressed his finger to her lips, although he actually made contact mainly with her cheek and nose. He was breathing deeply and mumbling something about “Fucking clean shave,” as Robin grabbed her purse and sneaked out of the cubicle.

The friendly nurse was completing some paperwork at a station nearby and paused to offer her a full body ‘I am not worthy’ style bow. “You’re a saint,” he told her before pointing her in the direction of the nearest vending machine. Upon her return Strike appeared to be sleeping, he was curled onto his side, his partial limb resting ontop of his slightly bent full one and his hands curled cutely under his chin, but he flicked open one eyelid as he heard her footsteps.

“I fooled ‘em…..came to do som’thin…..thermometer or crap…an’ I p’tended to be ‘sleep!” he attempted to pat his finger against his nose conspiratorially, but missed, his eyes following the tip of his finger, causing him to smile widely and go ‘Wow….mad!” Robin assumed that he’d started to see colour trails and smirked.

“Well, you did exactly what I asked, so here you go…..chocolate and tea,” and she handed over the king size Mars Bar and held the polystyrene cup of treacle coloured tea (which she’d had to sweet talk from the ward nurse) whilst he moved a little.

“Is it still secret? Do I have to eat and drink covertly…..like a spy?” he asked. Robin shook her head, “No….it’s OK now, you can sit up properly…come on,” and she placed her hand under his elbow to assist him.

Strike made a series of almost obscene sounds of ecstasy as he ate the chocolate bar and gave a smile of such pure joy when the hot liquid tricked down his throat. “Perfect tea, buddy! Just like Robin makes…..I love Robin’s tea,” he stated, “You know that though….told you before…I love Robin’s tea…an’ her filing, an’ her hair, an’….fuck it…alllll of it! You know that, Shanker!”

Robin was frozen to the spot as she tried to unpick the rapidly and somewhat woozily delivered stream of information. She was in the process of making her mouth form words when she felt a hand on her upper arm and jumped a little. It was the scrubs clad nurse again. She ducked outside the cubicle, leaving Strike continuing a rambling narrative of how good she, Robin, was for him.

“I’m afraid the gentleman that was brought in with Mr Strike seems to have left the building…he was sent down from X Ray a while ago, they told him you’d arrived; apparently it is just a hairline fracture….and he hasn’t made it back to us!” Robin chuckled, “Yeah…that sort of figures. Is he basically OK? And did they tell him that up in X Ray?” she asked.

The nurse nodded. “Well….he’s not the type of guy who likes to be around places like this as a rule!” It didn’t surprise Robin in the slightest that Shanker had disappeared as soon as he ascertained that he was OK. Behind the curtain she could hear Strike’s voice becoming louder and more agitated. “I’d better get back to his Lordship!” she stated, rolling her eyes and pursing her lips into a pout.

Opening the curtain she gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Shanker…where the fuck you b’in?” he announced, sitting on the edge of the bed again, holding his cotton gown in one hand and displaying the fact that he was stark naked beneath it for all the world…and Robin….to see!

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD…help me find my leg and get out of here!”

Robin wasn’t sure where to place her eyes first! His stomach really HAD become ridiculously well defined, and his shoulders and upper arms had that bulging definition of a swimmer….all of which were quite delightful to behold. But obviously…and to her shame….her eyes were drawn to and fixed upon his……well, his ‘Little Corm”……which it turned out wasn’t so ‘Little’!!!

“Oh God!” she managed to dreamily mumble, followed by a louder, and slightly more forceful, “Oh GOD!” as he attempted to stand on his one decent leg.

“Help ME!....They’ve stolen my leg, an’ they won’t let me escape…an’ I want Robin…she’ll help me….always does!” he whinged, finally resting his backside back on the edge of the bed as it became clear, even to his addled brain, that he was as helpless and wobbly as a newborn calf.

Robin found herself finally dragging her gaze away from his groin, and placed her hand against his warm, firm shoulder to still him and encourage him to stay still. “Are you sure you’re not under cover, Shanker? You smell different!” he mumbled, “And I want my leg….an’ my Robin!”

His pouting lower lip made Robin stifle both a groan and the desire to suck on it, but she guided his lolling head against her shoulder instead and patted it reassuringly. “You smell nice, Shanker. You smell like….jus’ nice things….nice people!” he mumbled, finally bringing the hand which was still clutching his crumpled, cotton hospital gown down to cover ‘the lads’!

Robin’s breathing was, she realised, still wildly out of control….of course it was, she’d just been flashed a full frontal and back view of a naked Cormoran…and no part of his anatomy hadn’t been edible!!

His arse!

 _His arse_!

His gorgeous arse!

However, right now, she needed him to go to sleep, and stop trying to escape….but he wanted Robin…..that was kind of cute.

“Would you like me to go and find Robin?” she asked softly, still rubbing her palm across the expanse of his shoulder and back as he nestled his face closer to her neck and hair.

“S’no good….she won’t come…she’s gotta hot date with some lucky bastard!” and he groaned, his breath hot and ridiculously erotic against her ear. “Shouldn’t think about her….s’too complicated…an’ sexy!”

“I think I can get her here,” she stated.

“Well….go an’ see…but, find me some pants….she can’t see my cock….not like this….s’not how I want her to see me naked f’r the first time…you know!” and he chuckled boyishly.

“Let’s try this then,” she suggested, focusing with difficulty on removing the gown from where he had it clasped. One of her fingers grazed against the dark hairs of his thigh and she gasped at the realisation that he was now nursing a semi as she took the cotton fabric from his hand.

“See!” he gazed down at himself, “Only ‘ave to start thinking about her an’ look!”

“Yeah!” Robin cleared her throat about six times and looked….she’d give herself a good hard (not hard…don’t say hard) a good stern (better) talking to tomorrow! “Look, let’s try putting this on, shall we?” and she shook out the gown, holding it before him like a matador distracting a bull.

“Tha’s a good idea, Shanker, mate…..bloody, brilliant idea…an’ I’ll lie down here an’ you can find Robin….you will find my Robin for me…yeah?” he garbled, as Robin fed his pliant arms through the sleeves and slid around behind him to fasten a couple of the ties. She helped him to lie down and tucked the sheet and thin blanket around him, all the time he was muttering about Shanker “Finding my Robin for me,” and “Need my Robin to come and look after me,” but “Not see my cock…or my arse,” and finally a more lucid, “leg’s fucking killing me.”

Robin considered that if the pain was beginning to break through his pot fuelled haze, maybe the effects were beginning to wear off. “OK….you snuggle down…I’ll find Robin. She’ll be here when you wake up,” and she stroked her hand a few times across his heavy breathing body, shrouded in crispy cotton.

She watched and counted 4 deep breathes and on the fifth it was clear he was fast asleep.

She sighed.

She smiled.

He had repeatedly called her ‘his Robin’. And he’d mentioned something about her seeing him naked…..he’d thought about that….presumably when not stoned! And he’d spoken to Shanker about her….not in a professional manner either!

She carefully sneaked out of the cubicle and found another of the nurses to clarify again exactly what was known, although based on the sketchy information she received it would clearly have to wait until Strike was more lucid. She fired off a text message to Shanker’s number and paused before grinning and tapping out a second to Ilsa.

After nipping to the loo she asked about a chair and was provided with one, plus a blanket and a further pillow so that she could stay and ensure that Strike remained blissfully quiet. A female nurse quickly carried out a temperature check on the sleeping giant, together with a check on his blood pressure, sliding the cuff around his arm as he grizzled a little, but remained asleep. Seemingly satisfied she left the pair alone. Robin was in the process of making herself comfortable when her phone buzzed.

Shanker. “Sorry for bailing. Knew Bunsen’d be OK with you. Catch you later.”

“What the hell have the pair of you been up to?” she said aloud, stroking across the grazed and reddened knuckles of Strike before placing her pillow and crossing her arms under it in order to get a little sleep herself.


	2. I was in a hit and run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very much shorter than chapter 1.  
> Strike has vague flashes of memory from the previous evening, and parts don't make sense....but he wakes up with Robin beside him in the hospital.......

Strike awoke with a mouth drier than the Sahara, a head throbbing as if someone where inside it trying to chisel their way out and a left hand that seemed immobile.  
He groaned and vaguely recalled meeting Shanker the previous evening, and knocking out the rather shady looking fella that lurched towards his golden-toothed friend with a knife.   
He’d knocked the small, wiry man aside, and he’d landed with his full weight on his left hand and wrist.   
The foot race which followed had resulted in Strike’s stump throbbing when they’d finally made it to the relative sanctuary of a small, safe house.   
A lack of traditional painkillers had forced Strike to accept the only option available to him….a poorly rolled joint from his hissing friend, who was intending to smoke it anyway to deal with his own pain.  
It was a while since he’d consumed anything stronger than Nurofen, so the effects of the drug had immediately gone to his head…although it had definitely stopped his aching leg too!

Shanker however was a different story, his gasping snarls each time he so much as moved his left arm or hand were getting louder, and eventually, at around midnight he’d convinced him to visit the A&E department of The Royal London hospital. 

Strike tried to move his hand and blinked himself further awake, although the light hurt his eyes.   
He hoped he hadn’t broken his hand….it hadn’t felt painful the previous night….but the throbbing of his knee had been uppermost in his mind.

Beside him he heard a feminine whimper and realised a honey coloured head of tousled, but gloriously soft hair was moving, allowing his left hand the freedom to move…..not broken then!

Robin peered across at him, “Morning,” she groaned, stretching out her shoulders and unfolding herself from the slumped position she’d adopted.  
Cormoran had a vague recollection from the previous night and yawned loudly and almost painful looking, “Mornin’….Shanker found you then?”  
Robin sniggered, “Yeah….I found you.”

“Sorry if I interrupted your date,” he growled, his now freed left hand rasping across his beard.  
Robin pouted, “You didn’t, Mark’s ex phoned him up and they will have been engaging in all manner of man-on-man make-up sex….the only thing you interrupted was back to back episodes of The Bodyguard!”  
He groaned a little, “Sorry….hope it wasn’t at a crucial part!” and he attempted to arch an eyebrow suggestively, but found it too painful.

“It’s fine…I’m just gob smacked that you were high! I mean….why? Why were you high?” Robin asked, taking the elastic out of her hair and untangling the knots with her fingers.  
Strike puffed out his cheeks, “Shanker…..he doesn’t have paracetamol!” he stated bluntly as if this were sufficient explanation.  
“So….you decided to smoke a spliff?” she clarified.

Strike did have the good grace to look sheepish, and she noticed how deliciously rumpled and ‘slept in’ he looked.  
“To be fair, it did kill the pain!”

“So what exactly had you two been up to? Anything that will have repercussions?” she asked, fumbling in her bag for some chewing gum to take the edge off her morning breath and dry mouth. She offered a piece to Strike who gratefully began to chew.

He shrugged, “Nah, nothing major, just got involved in a hit and run…..I had to hit someone and we both had to run!” and, with the aid of the minty freshness across his tongue, he was able to smile and waggle his eyebrows at her resigned glare.  
“Any chance you know where my leg is? I need a pee!” he stated, shifting slightly beneath the covers and becoming aware that he appeared only to be dressed in a hospital gown, “In fact, do you know the whereabouts of my clothes? I seem to remember I asked Shanker where they were last night…..if that bastard’s nicked ‘em….”

Robin nodded and cast her own mind back to the previous evening…several of the images were engrained on her memory, including the fact that he’d mistaken her for Shanker throughout the evening….and yes, he definitely HAD enquired about the whereabouts of his clothes!!!  
“I’ll go and find the friendly nurse I spoke to when I got here….can you last?” she asked and strode off upon receiving his affirmative response.

Having sent a medical professional into Strike she used the opportunity to visit the toilet herself and rinsed her make-up free face and hands in the sink.

Apparently she had given Cormoran enough time as when she returned to the cubicles his was wide open and Strike was standing, fastening the cuff buttons on his shirt.  
“I’m OK to leave,” he announced, wincing slightly as he put weight on his swollen knee joint in his prosthesis, but meeting Robin’s gaze. 

God she was stunningly beautiful; and never more so than here now, with her skin dewy and pink, her hair a tousled version of her normal amber, silken sheet and her smoky-grey eyes fixing him with an almost reluctant smile.

“Thanks again for coming when Shanker asked you,” he stated.

“It’s no problem…just stay off the wacky baccy in future please!”

He had a vague flash of memory caused by her swirling her jacket in order to reach the sleeves – a waft of her subtle perfume found his nostrils.  
“Did I?......I mean…..when you got here…..was I?......”

“You were fine…..you slept mainly!” she explained. “Come on, let’s get you back home then I can get on with my riveting Saturday afternoon of laundry and pilates!”

Cormoran spent his Saturday afternoon in bed…alone….weird dreams infecting his disjointed sleep as he rested his still swollen knee.  
He lit one of his regular B&H’s and blew the majority of the smoke out of the small window in his flat’s living room area.  
Had he stripped off in front of Shanker?.......again?!  
Jesus, he hadn’t been high in years….not since he was undercover in Cyprus….well, OK, maybe there had been that campfire on the beach in St Mawes with Nick and Ilsa….  
A further memory flashed into his brain and he fired off a quick text to Shanker…..he knew it was always best to settle his debts with the man promptly:  
C : How much do I owe you for the tea and Mars Bar?

A response came back pretty quickly from his unlawful, but faithful friend:  
S : ? What you on about Bunsen? Is that posh talk for a spliff? Cos I didn’t get you no tea or chocolate…must’ve been Robin. The wrist’s fine by the way thanks for asking!

Cormoran wrinkled his mouth….images were forming in his head, but everything seemed so fuzzy.

By Sunday his stump was still red, but significantly less swollen and his lingering pot hangover had subsided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting the final small chapter too - 'cos it seems mean to post such a teeny amount!


	3. 3 Aubergines!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of a nod to JK in her original - that gorgeous hug on the staircase....but turned into a kiss instead.

On Monday morning he flexed the knuckles of his hand and unlocked the office door, making himself a mug of tea before going through to his office.

He fired up his computer and considered whether this would be the week….the one when he finally told Robin that he wanted more than what they had professionally. He also knew that in all likelihood it WOULDN’T be the week…..because it hadn’t been for the past year or more.

And she’d bring in coffee and maybe a couple of the flaky Danish pastries covered in almonds that he liked, and she’d spend the week being the perfect accompaniment to his otherwise pretty singular existence.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text message and he glanced across, expecting it to be from Robin with some reminder about a client, or a file, or an email to check. Instead it was from Ilsa.

His eyes scanned the text.

The natural smile which had been forming on his lips as he’d considered seeing Robin again after almost 2 days promptly vanished and was replaced by an eyebrow raising, open mouthed gasp. He dialled Ilsa’s number immediately :

**C : ILSA!!! What the fuck do you mean? How has Robin seen me naked?**

Robin entered the office bearing her standard morning fayre of 2 take out coffees and a bag of almond croissants. The dulcet tones of Cormoran shrieking down the phone to Ilsa met her as she shook off her coat.

**C : I did WHAT?**

Robin pressed her lips together, pulled back her shoulders and approached his office door.

**C : I thought she was WHO? How spaced out was I?**

She tentatively propped herself against the door jam as he continued to hiss down his phone.

**C : Oh my God, Ilsa….stop laughing! I mean it! This is terrible! And she said I was…..completely…..**

“Naked as the day you were born!”Robin interjected from the doorway before she approached the desk and shouted “Morning Ilsa!”

Strike was staring at her with a look on his face somewhere between mortification, longing and smugness as Ilsa’s voice continued to twitter on the end of the phone.

 **C: She said what…..exactly?** He was smirking at her now….gathering the gist of Ilsa and Robin’s previous text conversation had actually been rather flattering rather than the train wreck he had feared!

Robin grimaced and made to snatch the phone from his hand, but he stood and held it fractionally out of her reach, grinning now as he saw the look of amused desire behind her eyes.

**C : Is that so? ….which emojis are we talking about?**

Robin knelt across his desk, swiping for his phone and trying to block out the sound of Ilsa’s voice by repeatedly saying 'La la la, not important, la, la, la'.

**C : REALLY? Hmmmm, I think I may need to have a discussion with my work colleague….you know, about professionalism in the workplace….that kind of thing. Talk later.**

He ended the call and tossed his phone down beside Robin’s knee, which was still resting on his desk as she tried to drag her gaze away from his hooded, seductively mischievous eyes.

“What exactly did you mean by 3 aubergine emojis, Miss Ellacott?” he asked, softening his lips into a smile as her eyes twinkled in recognition that far from being angry, or embarrassed, he seemed delighted by the admission.

She wrinkled her nose fractionally as he stepped slowly, purposefully around the desk, “My finger might have slipped….or……maybe it didn’t!” she added, her voice becoming soft and quite frankly addictive to Strike’s humming ears.

She apparently seemed to like him. Even having seen him stoned and stark naked in a hospital bed……3 aubergines….and he hadn’t even been ‘looking at his best’! Shit….maybe he had?

Had he got a stiffie in front of her when thinking she was Shanker?

“That....the whole, naked part..... wasn’t really something that I’d planned on happening before……well, before other stuff,” he stated, trying to read every emotion fluttering away in Robin’s brain and belly through her eyes.

To his delight she stretched her fingers and trailed them along his forearm, which encouraged him to place his own palm against the smooth curve of her waist.

“We can go out of sequence….I think it might still work,” she whispered, glancing purposefully between his darkly dilated eyes and the uneven lips he was curling into the tiniest, most glorious smile she’d ever seen on him.

“If I kiss you now are you going to be picturing me naked?” he murmured, bringing his other hand around into the warm, silken hair at the nape of her neck.

“Only one way to find out,” she answered, before their lips fused together.

It was perfect.

The feel of her lips was both new and familiar, as though he had kissed her a long time ago, as though he had missed it without knowing it for years. Robin melted into his touch; into his tender exploration of her lips; into the firmness of his chest as his arms wrapped her into a safe, warm embrace.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together and deep breaths mingling into the same air it was Strike who spoke first. “I guess Monday morning briefings are gonna be slightly different from now on?”

Robin sniggered lightly, the noise turning into a delightful moan as he rubbed his palm in purposeful circles across her lower back. “Hmmmm, “she sighed, “I think we should try and keep things as professional and normal as possible at work,” but she licked out her tongue and invited him, willingly, into a further, warm, wet kiss.

Panting slightly as he disengaged his tongue from hers he quirked one eyebrow in a manner reminiscent of James Bond, “In that case I’d like to add something into any other business….possibly as a standing item please,” and he pressed several hungry kisses against Robin’s neck, burrowing into the warm, heady aroma of the scent of her perfume and shampoo combined.

Robin dropped her head back and allowed him greater access to her neck, partly wondering why she’d waited quite so long before giving into this almost inevitable train of events.

“Email me….I’ll add it on for next week,” she sighed, making a high pitched whimper as his lips and teeth latched onto her earlobe in a knee trembling onslaught. “But we do have a full day ahead….first client’s due in about….oh God…..about twenty minutes…..ohhhhhh,” it was difficult to focus completely on speaking when Cormoran’s mouth seemed determined to investigate every inch of the skin available above the neckline of her blouse.

“In that case, let’s rendez vous at about 5pm…..my flat…..I’m not having you seeing me in the buff and me not at least calling it even!” he growled, trailing his nose against her soft jaw.

“Deal,” she pushed herself away, unable to stop the ridiculously wide grin on her face.

He liked her!

And he seemed to want this, whatever it was, to work!

And she knew that she would be able to get her teeth into that delectable arse of his…..possibly at about five past five that evening!

He was grinning like a Cheshire cat as he flopped down into the chair behind his desk, his elbows resting languidly on the arms. “By the way….what’s the female equivalent of an aubergine? ….you know….just for my text to Nick?”

He chuckled at her squeal as she turned and flounced out of the room. A few moments later his phone buzzed on his desk and he swiped it up as he span aimlessly around on his chair, reliving the feel of Robin’s perfect lips on his own. It was a message from Robin which showed a simple line of emojis : Peach, honey pot, tulip and kissy face, complete with an orange coloured heart.

Yeah.....those would do for starters!


End file.
